


le nouveau monde

by Finaiarel



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:16:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finaiarel/pseuds/Finaiarel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patience is not an attribute her friends would have said she possessed a few years ago, but if college has taught Aino Minako anything, it is that. Mostly though, Minako has just matured. Matured and worked through a lot of shit and just generally dealt with the emotional hellfire that is her past life's memories while her friends grew up and moved on and did something with their lives. </p><p>And Mina? Well. Mina makes art and goes to college. Or she did. Then she graduated, and now she's twenty years old and going absolutely nowhere of note with her life. She has no job, no boyfriend, and no potential. But that’s just how it goes, isn’t it? Mina’s life has been and forever will be a long string of terribly unlucky events. </p><p>Minako thinks that's all her life will ever be until the day a certain silver-haired someone drops into her life again, and suddenly everything she thought she knew about herself and her past gets turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A gentle breeze tugs and catches the blonde’s hair. She lifts her face into it, lets it caress her cheeks and push her along the path as she makes her way down the sun-brightened street. Her sandals pop with each step, the rubber soles slapping against the concrete sidewalks as she makes her way toward the little café on the corner. She stretches an arm up to touch the little swinging sign hanging over the sidewalk with the tip of a finger, a bright smile blooming across her lips as she _just_ nudges it and sets it swinging. Her fingers skim over the tops of freshly-watered carnations as she bounds up the steps to the door and pulls it open, the bells on the inner doorknob jingling merrily to announce her arrival.

“Mina-chan!” her friend’s voice carries to her over the noise and din of the café, bright and welcoming and ever-so-greatly appreciated as she waves Mina over enthusiastically before returning to the line of customers waiting at the cash register. Minako slips through the crowds of lunchtime diners and makes her way over to the bar, grateful only that she can find a seat in the middle of rush hour. She occupies herself with following Makoto around the room with her eyes with a weary sort of affection, all-too-aware of how much work goes into running the café. Makoto had offered her a job here one summer, and Minako can still feel the familiar ache in her instep whenever she watches Mako run around the shop and keep everything moving like a well-oiled machine.

It will be a while before Makoto can get all of her customers situated, and Mina decides that she is content to stare out the window and wait. Patience is not an attribute her friends would have said she possessed a few years ago, but if college has taught her anything, it is that. Hours of pointless art lectures with nothing more to do than poke at her Moleskine or balance a pencil on her lip were good practice, but mostly Minako has just matured.

Matured and worked through a lot of shit and just generally dealt with the emotional hellfire that is her memories while her friends grew up and moved on and _did something_ with their lives. Makoto had bought this café with the last of the insurance money her parents had left her, and has spent the years since high school working her ass off to make it a success. Rei, ever her father’s dutiful helper, has largely inherited the shrine now and is working with the city council to further preserve other cultural landmarks within the city. Bright, wonderful, intelligent Ami is finishing up grad school and applying to doctoral programs, and even Usagi has found work modelling.

And Mina? Well. Mina makes art and goes to college. Or she did.

But that was before her graduation last week, where she had received her diploma to little fanfare in the Dean’s office. She’d had to miss the actual graduation because of one single, solitary, teensy little class she had thought she could slip by without, but it had turned out that she apparently really, _really_ needed that third serigraphy class even though she was a painter and never planned to touch a screen printer again. Two weeks of summer class had been just enough to get her where she needed to be, but it had been too late for her to attend Commencement. That’s just how it goes, isn’t it? Mina’s life has been and forever will be a long series of terribly unlucky events.

Minako sighs and rests her elbow on the counter, propping her chin in her hand and gazing out the window with a pout on the perfectly-shaped curve of her lips. Twenty years old and going absolutely nowhere of note with her life. No job, no boyfriend, and no potential.

“You should stop brooding before you start growing mushrooms,” an amused, entirely familiar voice intones from behind the counter, and Minako flicks her eyes up to meet Nephrite’s with barely veiled annoyance. But then she reminds herself that this is not him, not the man she watched helplessly as he hurt her comrades, her sisters, so long ago.

“You would know so much about brooding, Nazaki-kun. Do you think that if you ever pulled your head out of your ass, you could teach me a thing or two?” she purrs, shifting until both elbows rest on his spotless countertops and she beams up at him with an angelic, sardonic smile. It’s enough to get a rise out of him, even if it’s only an eye twitch, but it’s enough. She settles back on her bar stool with a satisfied smile as one of the servers passes by, eyeing them both suspiciously for a moment before stepping out into the slowly-thinning crowd of people and heading for the back with her orders. Minako doesn’t envy her the inevitable minefield of feet and laptop bags she will have to maneuver through.

“Ever the charmer, aren’t you?” he drawls, but rolls his eyes nonetheless. It’s all in good humor, this rivalry, and once he and the other insufferable bastards had figured out that there was a way underneath her armor, they had taken a delightful sort of glee in dismantling it. Gone is the terrifying image of Minako the destroyer, who would make their lives hell if they so much as looked at her precious friends the wrong way, and in her place… Well, Minako supposes that having these men for friends isn’t so bad, not when they’re the only ones around who actually understand sarcasm and enjoy a good verbal spar now and then.

“Minako Aino, prettiest, best, and brightest,” she chirps in reply, then waves a hand towards the coffee maker in the corner. “Give me a peach smoothie today, Nazaki-kun. It’s hot as Satan’s ass-“

She’s interrupted by a hand entering her vision, slamming down on the counter as a pair of green eyes peer into hers with a warning and something a bit more threatening. “Mina! How many times do I have to tell you? Not in the café!”

“Yes, Mako-mama, I will be sure to watch my language,” Minako fires off just as fast, and enjoys the little flash of outrage in Makoto’s eyes. Mako hates being referred to as “Mama” no matter how much she mothers all of them. Minako openly smirks at Nazaki while he tries to hide his laughter, gathering the ingredients for her smoothie. “Will you be washing my mouth out with soap, or will I be walking free just this once?”

Makoto’s subtle answering blush is enough to sate any appetite Minako might have for further teasing, and she settles back again with her arms crossed over her chest as Mako just sighs and turns away from the blonde with a swish of her ponytail. “I don’t know why I even let you in here anymore, you know,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying to the beat of the pop song coming through the tiny speakers of the radio perched in the windowsill. “Between your tongue and Rei’s temper, it’s a miracle I even have customers anymore.”

“Maybe they just love my incredible good looks,” Minako proposes, eyes on Nazaki as he begins hand-shaking her smoothie in one of those Bell jars they use to make their café so distinctive. He snorts softly, a barely noticeable reaction, but it’s one that earns him a hard glare and the promise of swift retribution the next time he challenges her to a sparring match, verbal or physical.

“Or maybe they could come for the actual food,” Makoto retorts, sliding onto one of the stools behind the counter for a moment’s rest. The line has thinned out some, and one of the younger serving girls is taking care of what customers there are. Minako brandishes her payment and slides the money down to the girl, making sure she uses exact change to simplify the process. It’s a small quirk, one that shouldn’t matter, but she finds that she has more change these days than she would like, with so little time to go to the game center because of her classes. That’s another thing she should be looking forward to, now, but there’s nothing appealing about it anymore.  Nothing, in fact, holds much appeal anymore.

“Mina-chan, is there something you want to talk about?” Makoto asks, her voice soft, barely audible over the steady hum of voices filling the café. Nazaki chooses this moment to slide onto the stool next to her, passing her the jar full of peachy goodness and not saying a word. Minako debates not answering for a moment, feels that old instinct that screams she should not trust him, but she pushes it aside. It’s been two years, and he’s been a good friend for a while now. She can trust him. He does not remember his past life. He cannot be held accountable for crimes he does not remember committing.

“Not particularly,” she drawls, but then Makoto’s hand is enveloping hers and those earnest green eyes are peering into hers, so she sighs and straightens her back and tells herself, _‘Stop being secretive, this is one of your best friends.’_

“Alright, alright,” Mina huffs, blowing her bangs out of her eyes in false exasperation. “You should have gone into counseling, you know. You and Usagi-chan are too good at weaseling stuff out of me. It’s just… I don’t know what to do now.” She chews on her lip for a moment, unwilling to continue but watching as Makoto looks at her expectantly.

“I’m done now, but I still barely know more than I did when I started,” Minako finally accedes. “I’ve got my degree, but what do I have to show for it? A tiny apartment, no studio space, and no prospects? I just remember wanting to _be_ something by now, you know?”

“Minako! You _are_ something,” Makoto scolds, those long-lashed eyes narrowing in on her as she watches Mina fidget with her straw and sip at her smoothie. “You’re very well-known in the local community, and don’t you have work lined up, painting murals for the city council?”

“Yes, but Mako-chan, that’s not what I want to be _doing_ for the rest of my life!” Minako protests, pulling her straw out and watching the thick droplets of peach smoothie fall back into the jar as a pout flickers across her lips.

“Success isn’t automatic, Minako,” Nazaki scolds softly, and she opens her mouth to protest, but he continues before she can say anything. “Your art is exemplary, but if you want to do something more with it you’ll have to work for it, and I know you can. Almost everyone who comes in here comments on the mural you painted for us,” he says, gesturing to the back wall of the café. After Minako’s failed days of waitressing, Makoto had instead hired her to paint while she looked for work. After a while, the painting had taken on a life of its own, and now depicts a fountain amidst a garden of roses, tulips, irises, and other flowers.

“It really does add to the atmosphere, doesn’t it?” Minako quietly muses, a half-amused smile flickering across her lips at the mention of it. There’s nothing she loves more than praise, but it’s not enough to lift her from her funk, not yet.

“I adore it,” Makoto states decisively, her green eyes bright as she peers down at her pouty best friend. “You should be more proud of the work you do, Mina. Your art is amazing, and it’s only a matter of time before other people realize it too.”

She sighs and waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t particularly care who likes my paintings, honestly, if I could just sell some and get some money. I hate being on the brink of going into debt all the time, y’know? There’s only so much money my ‘rents can send, and they’ve already paid for my college for me. I’m tired of asking them for stuff, but I also don’t want to have some stuffy old office job.”

“What you need is a chance to show off your skills,” a new voice drawls from behind her, and she would startle if she had not already charted his path over to the counter from the moment the bells’ jangling announced his arrival. She half-turns on her stool and rolls her eyes when Jadeite walks in, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What do you want, Hisui?” she asks coldly, raising a golden brow.

“Can’t a man come in for his regular cup of coffee without being questioned?” he replies, sliding onto the stool next to hers. “Or are you still angry with me for kicking your ass in Soulcalibur last night, Mina?”

“It was _one time,_ Hisui,” she hisses, rolling her eyes and clutching her smoothie closer to her. “And I don’t know how you’re going to drink something _hot_ when it’s so fu-“

“ _Minako-chan!”_

“Right,” Minako sighs, slumping in defeat as Hisui and Nazaki share a laugh at her expense.

Bastards.

It’s enough to make her focus solely on her smoothie, drinking down the icy, fruity goodness greedily. Only to clutch at her head a moment later as a wave of pain rushes through her, a whine slipping out in protest.

“Mina?” comes Mako’s worried voice. She must have caught the sound but not the actions, or she’d be laughing just like Hisui.

Hisui, who is about to feel her foot connect with his leg. In three, two, one…

“Ow! Mina-!”

“You deserve it, jerk!” she hisses, cutting her eyes at him as the last vestiges of throbbing pain fade from her head. She throws a testy glance down at her drink before gingerly sipping it once more, unwilling to experience the painful feeling of brain-freeze again so soon.

Nazaki, ass that he is, just laughs from his position of relative safety behind the bar. Another strike against him. He’s going to regret this at training tonight, and he knows it.

A moment of relative peace passes as Minako sips at her drink, her eyes fluttering shut as she tunes out the immediate sounds around her and just… listens. Beyond the sound of Mako and Hisui arguing over video games, beyond the sounds of the cafe’s patrons, beyond even the sound of her own heartbeat. It’s a habit of Mina’s, one she hasn’t let go of since the day Nazaki first found her with Mamoru and Usagi while they were at a mall in Juuban.

Looking across the food court and making eye contact with someone straight out of her best and worst memories had been a shock, to say the least. And though she’d seen him watching Mamoru and Usagi before that, and recognized him, she hadn’t said a word because it was nothing more than the considering glance of any normal person watching a sickeningly happy couple drag their best friend along as third wheel. But when he met her eyes, well.

It might have taken a while for Nazaki to regain what little of his memories he had been given, but she had known from that moment on that there would be no getting rid of him, especially once he laid those too-perfect brown eyes on Makoto. From that moment on, Jupiter was lost.

That sense that had led him to her is the same one she’s toying with now. It’s not sound she’s looking for, not really. She imagines it would be more like a thrumming in her soul, a disturbance in the relative calm that surrounds herself and her sisters, her prince and his three brothers.

There should be four.

It’s only ever been this way with her. Even Usagi had only the vaguest sense of it when they were still just Serenity and Venus, but now it is only her. A side effect of being their leader, she supposes, or some other senshi nonsense. Venus would have been intrigued to learn the cause of the soul-web in her mind’s eye, but Minako has better things to do than dwell on weird, unanswerable conundrums, no matter how useful those answers might be.

Nazaki’s appearance had shaken her, of course. It had been a year since they’d sent the Shitennou on, a year since she’d heard the slightest whisper of their souls, but she would have known their signature anywhere. Like calls to like, she supposes, but mostly she just wishes this weird sense would be another one of Usagi’s powers. Healing and restoration and cleansing are hers. Minako’s talents lie elsewhere, in blinding her enemies with brilliant flashes of light before cutting them down with her sword before they can blink.

The thing that had her hung up on all of it was that the same damn thing happened again with Hisui a scant few weeks later. Like she’d set off some kind of chain reaction, except… not. He just appeared one day, leaning against the pillars outside of Crown Arcade and flirting with some nobody girl. It had been just herself that day, headed in for a quick round on the old Sailor V game, (it’s getting on in years now, and despite Luna and Artemis keeping its graphics and dynamics up to date, Mina knows Motoki is tempted to sell it and make room for some of the new games that are becoming popular), and she had known from the moment she saw him that things were going to change, again. That familiar tug in her chest, right where _he_ had stabbed her so long ago, and then blue eyes flick up to meet hers. Nonchalant, at first, simply measuring, but she can see the exact moment when recognition stirs. She doesn’t wait for him as she passes by and heads into the arcade, but it’s not long before he’s inside and trying to drum up a conversation. He meets Rei within the week, and then she knows strong, beautiful, fiery Mars is lost as well.

It was the same story again with Ren, whom she’d met on campus her freshman year. He’d been the quickest to drum up a conversation, had actually seemed interested in _talking_ to her beyond figuring out the weird feeling he got when he looked at her. She had taken him to see Ami as soon as she could, but it didn’t stop him from forming a lasting friendship with her, one she hadn’t expected. In the past, Zoisite had never been friendly, but things change, apparently, and sometimes for the better. She appreciates the friendship of her sisters, but there’s something to be said for guy friends who don’t view her as a potential girlfriend or piece of ass.

Nazaki, at least, doesn’t treat her like that. From the moment he had seen Makoto, he had possessed eyes that were made only for her. Only Hisui ever gave her trouble, and that was a blessing in and of itself. Even his flirtations were completely in jest, and Minako considers herself fortunate that Rei is aware of that as well. Another girl beating down her door for “tempting” her boyfriend is exactly what Mina doesn’t need.

She is shaken out of her musings when Nazaki reaches out and swipes her glass right out from under her nose. The movement causes her to jump slightly in her chair, but she quickly calms herself and pins him with a glare, narrowing her eyes at him. He shrugs his broad shoulders and replaces it with a glass of water.

“Where were you just now, Mina?” he asks, raising his brows with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Do you have to ask?” she murmurs, her eyes shifting to look for Makoto before she settles down a bit and sips at her drink, satisfied that her mother-like friend is not lurking anywhere too near to cluck at her and try to soothe her. It’s usually appreciated, but today Minako would prefer to just be left alone.

“I keep hoping the answer will be different this time,” Nazaki quips, polishing one of the glasses they use for mixed drinks as he looks anywhere but at her.

“Well, it isn’t,” she snaps, but after a moment her expression twists and her tone betrays her guilt. “That was unworthy of me. I shouldn’t snap at you for caring.”

“At least you got the saying right for once.”

She throws her napkin at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minako takes time to reflect, has a conversation with her best friend, and sees something rather disturbing.

                Lightning rips through the darkness outside Minako’s window, a streak of white before thunder cracks overhead. It is so loud it sets her bath water to rippling, and Mina sinks down into the lavender-scented water with a disgruntled noise. She had never liked storms that much. She wasn’t scared of them, per se. She had grown up in London, where it rained enough for her to get used to it fairly quickly. The lightning is the real problem. Having popped a couple of pills for her migraine earlier, Minako had sunk into the bath with only a candle for light to relax. Unfortunately, the lightning is much brighter than a single flickering candle, and each time it flashes across the ceiling Mina can feel her head throb painfully.

                She closes her eyes, knees bending to allow her to submerge her head in the water. Her hair fans out around her as she sinks bonelessly into the tub, the warm water filling her ears with a low hum that calms her and helps her relax after her long day. After leaving Makoto’s café, she had gone to see a client about a commission, and then headed home to work in the makeshift studio that was her living room. By the time she managed to sit down and pick up her paintbrush, her head began to throb, and not thirty minutes passed before she couldn’t focus anymore.

                She is perfectly relaxed now, her breaths coming evenly as she half-floats in the tub. Time passes, the water cools, and Minako is not sure if she fell asleep or not as she suddenly realizes that the worst of the storm has passed and with it, her migraine. The rain patters against the glass as she stretches with a pleased yawn and sits up in the tub, pulling the plug on the stopper with her toes. The drain groans as the water begins to slowly empty, and she pushes herself to her feet, nearly slipping on the slick bottom of the tub. The bathing oils she uses often make the tub slippery and treacherous terrain, but she is used to it. She catches herself with a huff of relieved breath, stands tall, and begins wringing out her long hair before grabbing her towel off the nearby rack. Once she is relatively dry and her hair is not positively dripping, she steps out onto the plush bath rug and digs her toes into the soft fabric.

                The tile floor is cool and sticky from the steam of her bath as she picks her way across the room to her bedroom. She swipes her phone off the dresser after she dons her customary sleepwear – a tee shirt and shorts, as well as her favorite pair of socks (the super fuzzy ones with cats on them). She flops into the mound of pillows and blankets that is her over-sized bed with a happy sigh. Her fingers move automatically over the screen as she dials the familiar number of her best friend.

                “Mina-chan! How was your day?” There’s noise in the background of the call – the sound of Mamoru scolding Chibiusa – but Usagi’s voice is welcoming and warm in her ear, and Minako cannot help the smile that spreads across her face.

                “Long, and tiring. How was yours, Usagi?”

                “It was amazing! Mamo-chan took my class to the zoo, and they were all so pleased! Little Otsuka-chan really loved the penguins, and Bakuto-kun really came out of his shell when he saw the giraffes, and…”

                Mina lets Usagi continue on like this for some time, making appropriately interested noises at the right moments. She adores her best friend and knows how happy her class of kindergarteners makes her, but what she really needs right now is the sound of her voice. Usagi is happy to talk for as long as Minako will listen, and it is some time before the conversation turns to her at last.

                “So, how did the interview you mentioned the other night go?” Usagi asks, and Minako can hear how she tries to swallow back her yawn. It’s near ten now, and it will soon be too late for the school-teacher to be up.

                “Oh, that,” Minako says, trying her best to sound nonchalant. “I don’t think they’ll call back.”

                “What?” Usagi says sharply. “Why not?”

                “I just don’t think it’ll work out,” Mina sighs. “It was this stuffy old businessman who wanted a portrait of his bratty daughter.”

                “Why would he call you for that?” Usagi asks, sounding puzzled. “You haven’t done portraits in years. Everyone in the local community knows you focus on landscapes when you’re not doing character concepts. All of your art is stylized.”

                “Apparently my name and contact information were in the paper, and he liked my rate. Something to do with the ad for the graduating class or something. I took one look at the kid and gave him Juni’s card.”

                “Maybe she’ll be a good match for him?”

                “I hope so. Juni is a fine artist and can likely give him the ego-stroking he wants. It would be a waste of my time.”

                “So what are you going to do?” Usagi asks, and this time Mina can hear her yawn.

                “I got a call late this afternoon about a potential client who wants to meet tomorrow. I’m going to see if it works out.”

                “I really hope it does. I’m worried about you, Mina-.”

                “You should get some rest, Usagi,” Minako quickly interjects, cutting her friend off before she could continue. “You may be patient with your kids when they’re tired, but they won’t act the same for you.”

                “I know,” Usagi says, and Minako can hear her lip jutting out in a pout even though she’s across the city from her. “Promise you’ll tell me how it goes?”

                “Don’t I always?”

                A beat of silence. Then: “Love you, Mina-chan.”

                “Love you, Usagi. Get some sleep.”

                “G’night,” Usagi’s voice tells her drowsily as she cuts off the call.

                Minako tosses her phone away from her and curls into the blankets and pillows with a sigh. The lights are low, the rain is soothing, and despite her worries about her future, she soon passes out.

***

 

               When Minako rolls over, it is two o’clock in the morning. There had been a noise, or she had dreamed a noise, because she had bolted upright in bed only to find that her room is as silent and oppressive as it always is on the nights that Artemis stays over with Luna at Usagi’s. As silent as it can be with the distant sound of traffic and life moving on, even at night, in the city.  It’s all background noise at this point, but the silence of her apartment, of her life, is what has her concerned now. There is no chime of her communicator watch, no distant sounds of people’s fear, no urgent tug on her heartstrings telling her that someone is in need of rescue. She is awake and alone with her thoughts and that persistent feeling that something is off. She lies in bed for several minutes, listening and trying to will it away. It persists, and she huffs and throws her covers off. The chill air of her apartment kisses her bare skin as she moves to grab her fluffy robe from behind the door, shrugging it on as she flicks on the hall light switch and moves through the half shadows of her studio apartment.

                Minako has always liked the night. Her powers are light and love and happiness, but there is something about the darkness that soothes her soul. Most girls would be scared, staying by themselves in the city, but Mina knows that she can handle herself no matter what comes through the door. She has faced far worse than the average bump in the night, so she is not particularly worried about serial killers or the like as she reaches the end of the hall and enters her kitchen / dining room / living room.

                She flicks on the light, scans the room once and then once again, and then glides across the hardwood floors on silent, fuzzy socked feet. A moment later, she has the milk jug in her hand and is tipping it to her lips, eyeing her balcony warily and thinking about how humid the night air might be. That feeling of wrongness is still with her though and it pushes her to move out onto the balcony. She lets the door fall shut behind her as she moves to lean on the rail, looking out over the city with tired eyes.

                 It has been nearly two years since she woke Ren, and there has been no sign of Kunzite anywhere. She would almost be willing to give up if it weren’t for Mamoru, whose constant reassurances have given her the hope that Kunzite might be out there somewhere, living a happy life as a mortal man. That is what they had wanted for the Shittennou when they’d set them free upon the world, and he could be anywhere now. Sometimes she amuses herself by making up stories of him, imagining all the places he could be and all the things he could be doing.  All the women he could be with instead of her. That should not sting her as badly as it does.

                And yet. _And yet._

                She should not miss him, but she does. She should not want to find him again, but she does. She should not need reassurances that he is alive, but she does. She needs to see him again, needs to speak to him, needs some kind of closure after everything they went through.

                After he betrayed her.

                After he killed her sisters.

                After he ruined everything she had worked so hard to build.

                After she killed him, and cursed him with her last dying breath.

                Suddenly, something moves in the darkness, and Mina jerks from her thoughts. No one else is out on their balconies this late at night, but it is not on the balcony that she sees it. A glimmer of silver hair in the darkness of the rooftop across the street. It is a color she knows as well as her own. Her breath catches in her throat, but in the next second there is nothing there.

_‘I imagined him. He wasn’t there. It’s late, and I’m tired and heartsick and angry, and I imagined him where he couldn’t possibly be.’_

                And yet. _And yet._

                Minako stares for a moment longer, and then heads back into her bedroom to her warm and waiting bed.

               


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, so I may add another sooner rather than later.

                The sun is bright and warm as it streams through Mina’s window, and she rolls over with a groan and pulls a pillow over her face. It is early still, but she had gone to bed at a decent time the night prior and knows that she will not be able to sleep any longer. It takes her the better part of ten minutes to work up the energy to move, but at last she stretches and rises from the bed. She can feel that her hair is a mess, but her first priority is coffee. She trudges into the kitchen and flips on her automated coffee maker, her mug and coffee already preloaded into it. While it brews, she throws a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and grabs the strawberry jam Makoto had made last summer from the fridge.

                An hour later, Minako’s hair is brushed into something semi-presentable, she is caffeinated, and she has had breakfast. It is the best start to the morning she can afford, and with thirty minutes to spare before she meets with her client at a local café, Minako grabs her portfolio from its spot near the door and locks up. Minutes later she is on the street, the address punched into her phone as she winds through the foot traffic clogging Tokyo’s sidewalks.

                The city is bright and alive and free of threats from weird outer space societies for the moment, and Minako has to admit that she is enjoying the peace more than she usually would. Back when she was in high school, she would have given anything for a peaceful, easy moment with her friends without some kind of threat hanging over their heads. Now that she is older, and the complications of adult life have hit her, she sometimes craves the simplicity of a good fight. It is why she meets Nazaki and Hisui at the gym three times a week, and why they all spar together in their free time.

                She is jarred out of her thoughts by the feeling of a shoulder slamming into hers. Looking over her shoulder just in time, she catches sight of an absent-minded man dressed in a black coat pushing past her without a word of apology. He looks in a hurry. Biting back the impulse to yell at him for his rudeness, Minako turns her gaze back to the sidewalk before her and finds herself standing in front of the designated meeting place.

                The café is housed in an old, squat brick building, the mortar cracked with age. A wrought iron sign hangs above the door proclaiming it to be ‘The Twisted Teacup,’ and Minako’s lips twitch into a small smile as she pushes the heavy glass door open. The tingling of a bell marks her entrance. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the interior, the light not nearly so bright once inside. It is dark but cozy, the small wooden tables placed just close enough to create a sense of intimacy without overcrowding the patrons. She winds her way through the rows of tables to find a booth in the back, sliding onto the cracked leather bench with her back to the wall.

                She has fifteen minutes left till her appointment and is glad she arrived early. Normally, potential employers would have to go through more professional channels, but she is up-and-coming and the client’s name carries weight. He had asked to meet with her personally, and since he had designated a public place and she was a bit desperate for money, she was willing to oblige him. She also appreciated the chance to utilize her winning personality, hoping her charming smiles and eager attitude would help to charm where her art might otherwise fail.

                Seven minutes of scrolling through Instagram later, Minako feels eyes land on her as the bell announces a customer’s arrival. Eyes flicking up to check her surroundings, Minako studies the newcomer warily as she approaches her table. A mousy woman with thick, round glasses and golden-brown hair tucked into a neat bun, she walks with efficiency in her three-inch pumps. Her outfit is professional, her dark blazer and pencil skirt perfectly tailored to fit her slight form. She slides onto the bench across from Minako, adjusts her glasses, and opens her mouth to speak.

                “From what I understood, I was supposed to be meeting a man by the name of Samir Arai?” Minako says, interrupting her before she could speak. “I think you have the wrong person.”

                “Are you Minako Aino? Mr. Arai is my employer. My name is Jinko Katakeuchi,” she offers, extending her hand.

                “Ah,” Minako says, raising a brow but reaching across the worn and scuffed table to shake her hand rather awkwardly. Her charms never worked on women as well as they did men. “Am I to present my portfolio to you, then?” she asks.

                “If that is alright with you.”

                Minako nods and reaches below the table, fishing the heavy leather portfolio from where she had leaned it against the bench. “Here,” she says, sliding it across the table.

                Jinko takes her time, brown eyes carefully examining each piece of artwork with special attention to the details. Minako does her best not to fidget in the seat – it is always awkward to be forced to sit still while someone examines her work. Jinko asks her a few questions about her mediums and her experience, but overall she seems content to be left alone to examine the portfolio.

                When at last she has finished, Minako must contain the urge to sigh in relief. Sitting in place and not interfering while someone pores over your life’s work is hard, and it was an exercise in patience to do so. Minako looks at her expectantly, eyes bright as she searches the woman’s face for signs of her opinion.

                Jinko flips back through the portfolio and turns to a print of a painting Minako had made earlier this spring, when she was in the last of her watercolor classes. It is a study of one of Venus’ memories, a place long lost to time and forgotten. In it is pictured an oasis. The desert sun burns bright over the sands while the palms shelter the traveling caravan from its burning rays. Mina is proud of this piece.

                “Mr. Arai saw this piece on your online portfolio. He wishes to purchase the original from you, and may be interested in commissioning more of its like. He would like it if you would come by his office today with the original. Could you meet him in his office at twelve thirty ?” she asks, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.

                Minako’s eyes light up, and the bright smile that finds its way onto her expression is entirely real. “Of course! Any time today will work. I was planning to work in my studio, but I would be happy to wait on that if Mr. Arai wants to meet. I just need to run home and grab the painting and then I’ll be able to head over.”

                “There will be a car waiting for you outside the café. You may make use of it.”

                “Ah, my apartment isn’t far-.”

                “Yes, but we wouldn’t want the painting to be damaged in the commute back, and the Arai Conglomerate headquarters is downtown.” Jinko said, eyeing Minako sternly, as though she would not take no for an answer. “I insist.”

                Mina balked a moment, feeling a flash of trepidation at the woman’s forwardness and command, and she felt part of her rile at being interrupted and ordered around, but she bit her lip. She had needed the commission work from this man to begin with, but making a sale on one of her originals would help her immensely. “I understand, Ms. Katakeuchi. I will take you up on your offer.”

                “Right,” Jinko says, nodding as though everything was now settled and it had never been a problem to begin with. She closes the portfolio and slides it back across to Minako, smiling pleasantly. “If you are ready then, allow me to escort you.”

                “Sure,” Minako says, forcing herself to relax as she reaches for her purse and rises, scooping up the portfolio before following Jinko from the small coffee shop. She feels a stab of guilt as she exits, realizing that she had not bought anything, but the store looks fairly full and the owner is not looking their way so she lets it slide this once. She will come by later and buy something.

                The car is sleek, black, and nondescript, and Minako is amazed they managed to find parking so close. Tokyo is a bustling city and parking spots are a rarity. A man waits outside the car and as they approach, he opens the door for them to slide into the backseat. Minako feels a slight pang of nervousness as Jinko herds her in first, then slides into the seat next to her. She does not know these people and she can feel her self-preservation instincts riling up, but she shoves them down. She needs this job. She needs the work. She is safe.

                What would be a short walk back to her apartment takes close to fifteen minutes in traffic, but eventually they pull to the curve outside Mina’s apartment building and Minako lets herself out of the car before the driver can get out to open her door.

                “I will be back down with the painting in a moment,” she says firmly, and reaches for her portfolio to take it back up with her.

                “If you will, please leave this. My employer will be anxious to see your other works in person, I am sure,” Jinko says, placing a gentle, pale hand on the portfolio and tilting her head to the side to examine Minako with emotionless eyes.

                “…Right,” Minako says, feeling more and more weirded out by the woman by the second. She grabs her purse and shuts the door behind her, jogging up the steps to the lobby in her flats. She tugs at her skirt as she enters, wishing she had not worn one so short now that she knows she was going to be meeting a woman all along. She supposes it will come in handy when she finally meets Samir himself.

                The elevator ride up to her room is short, and she lets herself into her apartment and locks the door behind her before heading to her living room / studio. There is an old linen closet where she stores her art and she knows it is not the safest place but it is the only place she has. She pulls the box she keeps in the bottom out and quickly flicks through the systematically labelled archival bags she keeps her paintings in, finding the one she is looking for with little effort. She walks back to the door, drops her keys back into her purse, and takes a moment to send a text to the group chat she shares with all of the girls.

                [Mina, 11:45am: Guys, my meeting with the rich buyer went off-script. It’s a long story, but I am heading to Arai Conglomerates to sell one of my originals. If I get kidnapped or end up in some kind of sex-torture scenario, mourn me.]

                She slips her phone back into her purse and feels around in the bag for the pocket where she keeps her pepper spray, then reaches to feel for her transformation pen. She keeps it snug in a pocket Rei sews into the lining of all of her clothes. This time, it is in the breast pocket of her blazer and she sighs in relief.

                ‘ _I’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen but a sale that I desperately need to make.’_

She locks up, shuts the door, and heads back to the car.


End file.
